Dying Wishes Of The Blood
by Fruit Punch Samurai G
Summary: And so, the hunt begins again. However, Yharnam have new keepers and new mysteries to uncover. It won't be like last time, with the exception that you must be mad to enter this accursed city. Crossover/Alternative Universe for Dark Souls and Bloodborne, where the many characters of Lordran are instead denizens of Yharnam.
1. Chapter 1

A faint sun shone over empty city streets. A fading light dissipating for the incoming darkness of the night. No one roamed these streets during the hour, for all remained inside. All, except a group of children, playing with dolls and a music box. Blissfully and ignorant, they played a game with their dolls, tuning it with the music from the box. What was this game they were playing? Truth to be told, they didn't know themselves. They acted without thinking why they were playing in that manner, because it was nothing more than simply fun. There was no point to ask why, since the children were content.

However, there was one who was not content. The oldest child resented the game. It meant nothing and served no purpose besides mindless fun. To be confined to this drivel was something the child wanted no part of. This one wanted to do something else. Something that children like themselves shouldn't do. The child suggested it to the rest of the kids, but they did not agree. In retaliation, the oldest kicked the music box, creating a crack where the cogs fell out. The oldest didn't want to be small. It wanted to grow.

It was then the child realised that the other children were gone. Their toys were left behind, torn apart into many pieces. The child looked around and neither saw nor heard anyone else. The town was devoid of anything besides themselves, except for the sound of boots stepping on the cold stone streets. Looking up, the little one saw someone tall in a long coat with his face hidden with a scarf mask. That someone also wore a cap, fashioned by the withered feathers on its back. The sun was right behind the individual, so only the silhouette could be observed. In fact, it was not even certain if it was a man or a woman who stood there. No movement was made between the two and they only stared at each other. It was as if there was a connection between the two of them. A connection that could only be described as 'seeing your own reflection'.

Suddenly, the clanking of a large clock-tower bell was heard. The sun disappeared completely, replaced by a bright red moon. The red light revealed the real insides of the dolls. The cotton took the shape of guts with thick red blood spilling from their torn limbs. The cogs from the music box were now eyes, still twitching as if they were inside an eye socket. The child looked at the mysterious one, whose coat was then soaked in thick blood. The stranger held out a hand for the child, gently like an angel. There was no concern in their mind, even though the stranger appeared as nightmarish as the rest of the world. Underneath it all, the child felt a sympathetic spirit. Obliging, the young one reached out for the gentle hand. Yet as their own hand came into their view, all the child saw was the hand of a burning beast.

...

The dream was over and you were in the waking world of men, where you belong. On the other hand, you could barely tell the dream and the real world apart anymore. For a whole fortnight, you were inside a cell with no light for comfort. There was nothing but darkness. You did not even know the difference of being awake and asleep. You couldn't even remember the light, let alone the places you've been to or the faces of the people you love. You were imprisoned for far too long, and your mind started to embrace the madness. All you had… was blood.

You were in the Northern Asylum of the Ailing, a place for the blood-crazed. Here, the ones who had too much of sweet euphoria of the blood were locked up and left to decay. In truth, it was the asylum itself that created these madmen. The inmates were normal people, until taken here and given nothing else but the sweet blood. It was a research lab in the guise of an asylum. You were tied to this place, imprisoned with those who were already lost. This was your fate.

Unable to be guided by light, you used your hand to search in a midst of empty vials. You looked at one after the other, but they were all empty. Words of dread repeated in your head. It cannot be, it cannot be. You started to panic, but fortunately for you, you grasped a vial with sufficient weight to it to imply it was not empty. Thank the gods, you thought. The needle was still attached to the vial, so you thrusted the needle into your right leg and injected the blood contained in the vial. The momentary pain of the needle was overshadowed by the sweet relief of the healing blood. Intoxicated, your consciousness drifted into sleep again. The rest of your body became numb as you fell over to your right. You wanted no more dreams. No more awakenings. You just wanted oblivion.

Before your eyes could close, a small faint light creeped under the door cell. That was not all, because the light came with the sound of a deep moaning voice. The light took the shape of a child, crawling out of the door gap. The little being with wrinkled stark white skin gradually pulled himself towards you, moaning as he went. Panic entered your mind again, but the numbness of your body didn't even allow you to scream. Before you knew it, more of these little ones appeared, crawling over your stiff and vulnerable body. They all gathered in front of your eyes and looked at you with expressions that told you that they yearned for you. You desperately struggled to move, but it mattered not, for your consciousness wandered into another slumber. As your eyes succumbed to the darkness of your eyelids, a voice of a young maiden echoed in your mind.

"…A new hunter? I'm so sorry."

...

The sound of cracking wood from the cell door awoke you from your sleep. The numbness had left your body, but you were too weak and tired to move again. The cell door burst itself open with a dead body thrown down at the entrance to your cell. The dead man was twice as big as the average man, with overgrown hair that covered his face, bandages wrapped around his right eye and a mouth with dirty and large bucked teeth. You looked above the corpse and saw the one responsible. All you could see was a man. Anything else about him was masked by the darkness of the dungeon that eclipsed the light of the torch he held in his right hand. His left hand held a meat cleaver, stained most likely in the blood of the corpse on the floor. The man threw the cleaver down near your hands.

"Find yourself an exit and meet me in the courtyard. You'll be leaving the asylum tonight." The man said, leaving you behind as he left the cell and continued onwards.

Someone appeared to be helping you, but it reeked with suspicion. Why would a stranger risk himself for another stranger like you? However, you didn't even consider the option to stay in cell as you had for weeks. Wherever the man would lead you, it couldn't be worse than this.

You picked up the cleaver and stepped outside your cell. For someone who has been depraved of light as long as you, the lanterns outside strained your eyes. As you started to adjust to your surroundings, you noticed more cell doors were open, meaning you were not the only one who was freed by that man. The smell of blood was everywhere thanks to the amount of corpses scattered throughout the hall. Normally, it would've been a foul stench, but to you, the smell was like flowers. You observed you surroundings to see if anyone was still around or if anyone was coming. There was no one there, so you walked towards to the left exit.

The door was already open, meaning this was where the stranger from earlier went to. When you opened it, a stronger light greeted you, putting more strain to your already weak eyes. Once you became used to the light, you could see a large chandelier lighting up the main hall. You looked around and noticed that you are on the upper floor of the building, so you had to find the stair leading down. Just as you walked out of the door, you could hear the cries from fellow inmates. You couldn't see them, but their words were harrowing.

"The Church is good to us. They'll take care of us."

"Death to outsiders. Beasts, all of them. Death to outsiders."

"Blood crazed fiends, the hunters."

"Bless us. Bless us, sisters of the blood."

You could've been one of them. A rambling lunatic deprived of all the care in the world, left to rot in an asylum in middle of nowhere. You were free for the moment, but it would mean nothing until you left this place alive. You watched your left and found the stairs that led to the main hall below, so you walked there and travelled each step down. While you went down, a thought occurred to you. Where were the rest of the escaping inmates? They all left before you, so why couldn't you hear people outside their cells? Maybe they were already outside, since you were the last one to leave. Although, it also made you wonder where the asylum staff where. Once you were downstairs, you saw the reason for your loneliness. Dozens of mangled corpses where spread everywhere, along with pools of blood painting the floor and walls. The victims were fellow inmates and members of the staff. Was it the stranger who did it, or something else? That question was answered immediately, with the noise of a swinging chandelier. You looked up and saw a large beast resembling a man and wolf hybrid hanging from that chandelier. With its strength and weight, it tore the giant luminaire down from the ceiling. As it crashed on the floor, it took its light with it, leaving you alone in the dark with a man-eating beast.

Your heart was pounding fast and your ears could hear the growling. You saw the faint lights from the windows near the entrance to the asylum, but you did not dare to move with that creature on the loose. You had a weapon, but what good would it do to something capable of mass slaughter? You had to escape, for the beast would find you if you didn't. To avoid making any sound to give away your location to the beast, you slowly moved your feet. It seemed to be occupied with feasting on the remains of an asylum employee, so it would not notice you if you stayed silent. Alas, upon your sixth step, you felt your foot stepping on broken glass. The beast stopped eating and it knew where you were. The sound of heavy growls and breathing came closer and closer, till you felt its breath above your head. You closed your eyes, hoping at the very least for a swift death. Then, both you and the beast heard a voice.

"Please… h… h-help… me."

Someone was still alive, prompting the beast to run past you and attack the survivor. You were saved, but at the cost of another's life. The survivor screamed and cried for help as the beast ripped his flesh apart from his bones. This was your chance. You decided to take the risk and ran to the door, perpetually breaking glass on the way. You made it to the exit, but it was locked. Knowing that the beast might be right behind you, since the screaming stopped, you gathered what little strength you had left and slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn't budge, so you tried again. Again and again, until the fifth try broke it open. You just kept on running as fast as you could, not thinking where you're going, not thinking of what was behind you. Just as you thought you made it, you felt the giant claws grasping at your back. The beast was so much faster. You reacted quickly and plunged the cleaver into the top of the creature's skull, but it only flinched and ensued to slam you to the ground, breaking your body upon the impact. The beast stared down at its victim, with saliva and blood pouring down from his mouth onto your face. Its jaws opened wide as it prepared to bite your head off. You were too weak to fight back. What chance did you have?

Yet hope came with the sound of a blunderbuss. A hail of bullets descended upon the beast with such fury that it was beaten back by the sheer force. Once it was out of reach of its prey, a Molotov cocktail came flying and coated the beast in flames. As it howled in agony, the fire burned every inch of its flesh, like the fire was some form of purification, before it finally killed it. You were saved from death once again. You looked to your side to gaze upon your saviour and saw that it was the stranger from earlier. The man bowed down, took out a blood vial from his bag and injected it into your veins. The broken body of yours felt the healing from the blood and your strength was regaining.

"Can you stand?" The man asked as he reached out his hand, offering to help you off the ground.

You answered yes and thanked him, accepting the man's help and took his hand.

With the sun as a light, you could see the man with your own eyes. Yet, his appearance still alluded you. His face was obscured by a hood that hid his hair and a blindfold that covered his eyes. Only his nose, mouth and chin were exposed, which did not say much besides that he had stubble on his chin. He also wore a long coat with a short and tattered cape on his shoulders, which was either torn after many battles or fashioned to his liking. The mysterious saviour was still a stranger.

"I am Oscar, a fellow outsider. There is little time for us to know one another, as well as answering any questions you may have."

At the very least, knowing his name was enough for you.

"I know where you want to go. It is where I am going."

Puzzled by how he knew, you asked why, only to be interrupted mid-sentence.

"I said there is little time. Just enter the carriage, and all will be answered when we arrive."

Whatever the case may be, following Oscar seemed to be the best option. He took his seat as the driver while you entered the interior of the carriage. When he sat down, Oscar alerted the horses to move, leaving the asylum behind as they dragged the carriage across the road. You took a look outside through the glass window to witness your departure from the nightmare. When the tress buried the view of the asylum, you could see your own reflection. Apparently, your time in a cell made you unable to recognize yourself. Your hair was longer than it originally was, dirt was everywhere and your clothes were torn and stained. Most notably, you're thinner. Two weeks of total darkness with little food takes quite the toll on the average human, no matter how strong their will might be. Thankfully, it was in the past, now that you were on your way to where you were meant to go.

Yharnam, the home of blood ministration.

...

An hour had passed since the two of you left the asylum. Outside, you saw that you just passed the gate into the city. You were now in the city of Yharnam you've heard so much about. To the outside world, Yharnam was a place out of a fancy fable. A city where there were no sick and no injured, all thanks to the miracles of their blood healing. One would easily believe that if a place was to receive such a tale, it must have been like paradise on earth. It was not. Carcasses of men and beasts were littered everywhere and coffins were piling up on the side of the road. No people were outside their homes besides the mob you spotted patrolling on a street below the bridge you were crossing. The mob was armed to the teeth with fire and steel, circling around a large bonfire with a crucified beast on the top. You had heard of this before. A tradition the people of Yharnam called the Hunt.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped. Thinking that you had arrived at your destination, you reached out for the door, only for Oscar to slam his hand on it, preventing it from being opened.

"Wait here." He told you before disappearing from your view.

With the thought of that something must've blocked the road, you obeyed and waited for him. You were close now. So very close to fulfil your goal. Like many outsiders searching for this city, you were once sickened with a disease that was said to be incurable. For the small hope of living longer, you sought Yharnam and its healing blood. Your memory before the fortnight he spent in the asylum is hazy. All you know is that the caravan you travelled with were raided by an unidentified group of bandits. Thinking back, they must've been agents of the Church who took you and the other travellers to the Asylum of the Ailing. The blood transfusion you received there definitely cured you, but in exchange for your freedom and sanity. But there was more. There was another reason for your journey. A one word mystery that you needed to solve. A mystery called 'Paleblood'.

All of a sudden, your thoughts disappeared when you heard a screeching cry. Never in your life have you heard something like that. At that juncture, a large tremor shock the ground. Something was on the bridge, and you were not going to stay and let yourself be taken. Regrettably, your reaction was not fast enough for you to escape. Something with the force of an enormous battering ram hit the carriage with you still inside. The force caused it to roll over several times before stopping, destroying it from wheel to roof. Somehow, you were still alive and conscious after all that. Knowing that, you tried to move, but an unendurable pain on your right leg stopped you. A heavy wooden shrapnel was impaled there, preventing you from moving without tearing your leg off. Your vision was fuzzy, which was no wonder after all that spinning and the loss of blood from your wounds. You heard the horses screaming while they were slaughtered and ripped apart, piece by piece. A chunk of the carriage was in front of you, so you couldn't make out who, or what was doing all of this. Neither could you see nor hear Oscar. Was he slain, or did he leave you behind? Nonetheless, you were on your own again. Despite your fatal wounds, you took both your hands and started to push the wreckage out of your way. You felt your muscles scream in agony as you strained yourself, but you kept going. You pushed and pushed and pushed, but just as you felt it loosen, an enormous hand of a beast took hold of you, pulling you out of the wrecked carriage.

With your distorted vision, the appearance of the giant was obfuscated. All you could perceive was the grey hide it wore and what appeared to be antlers on its head. The beast clutched its hand tighter, crushing your every bone in your body. The pain was excruciating to the point you wanted to just die, but it didn't kill you. Once it stopped, you became stiff as a corpse. You were not dead yet, but you might as well have been. As a final act for the execution, the beast threw your lifeless body off the bridge like garbage. Your fate was sealed. You've evaded death twice, but the third time was the reaper's charm. As you kept falling, you saw how close you were. Just past one bridge, and you would've had your answer. Maybe it was for the best, however. If this was what Yharnam had to offer, then dying and leaving the nightmare was a desirable outcome. Three breaths the fall took and the ground caught you on the fourth. As the weak human you were, the stone floor mangled your body, killing you quickly and painlessly. At the bottom of the city, you lied dead and broken with your red blood oozing between the stone bricks.

You were another fool who came to this accursed city and paid the price in blood. All that was left was the endless dream.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_ **

**And that concludes the first chapter. I will say, I did not expect to enjoy writing this as much as I did. In the beginning, I planned this to be about three chapters long only giving small details about the changes. As I finished the first chapter, I realised I had too much fun with it to let it be over so quickly.**

 **The idea came across when I compared the two titles' pros and cons. In the end, I think that Bloodborne has the better lore, whereas Dark Souls had the better characters. And so I thought, why not combine the best of both worlds? Originally, this was meant to be told in the perspective of the Chosen Undead I created in the first game, but I decided to write in a second person point of view to replicate the feeling of playing a Souls game.**

 **One thing I need to tell you beforehand is that this fic won't cover every single character in Dark Souls and all the optional areas in Bloodborne will be skipped. The reason for this is because I want to finish this project and don't have all the free time in the world at the moment. I may write bonus chapters if this series does well, but I can't promise that.**

 **Hopefully you'll stick around to see what happens next. Please leave a review and give some feedback for improvement.**

 **P.S For anyone who is wondering, the title of this fic is the literal translation of Blood Echoes in the Japanese version of Bloodborne. I originally had the place holder title "Blood Souls" when I started, but it felt too simplistic and silly for my liking.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was quiet. The sensation of being alive was gone and all the warmth and comfort of the world turned to ash. Not even embers were left. Everything was cold, dark, and peaceful. This comfort felt lonely, but surprisingly rapturous. All your worldly problems died out with you and nothing could hurt you anymore. This sweet embrace of death makes one forget life's disparity. Light or dark, life or death, none of it mattered anymore. What remained was the peace of nothingness. Until, a single spark came to be and you felt warm again.

...

Your consciousness came back to you. All your five senses returned and everything around you took shape. A cold wind from a high peak brushed at your skin and the smell of flowers entered your nostrils. As you opened your eyes, all the colours revealed where you were. A small house, no bigger than a room or two stood atop on a hill surrounded by gravestones and white lilies. Behind the house was a great wilting tree that towered it with twice its size. Looking at all sides, you noticed that the hill stood above the clouds and soaring towers could be seen in the distance in every direction. It was all so surreal, like you entered someone's dream.

Beside the stairs leading to the house's front door, you saw a young maiden sitting by a lantern, sleeping tranquilly. She had a long blonde hair with a hair bun and wore dingy robes that seemed to be darkened by fire and ash. Her skirt covered her legs, but signs of blood could be found as stains. Seeing as this young woman was the only one around besides yourself, you decided to approach her. Once you were within an arm's reach, she woke up. With her eyes opened, her sky blue eyes revealed themselves. For you, who experienced the madness and loneliness of the asylum, this girl appeared like the embodiment of beauty, warmth and kindness that was lost to you, even if you knew nothing about her.

"…"

She said nothing, only pointed towards the stairs. Either she had no reason to speak or could not in the first place. Regardless, you did what you thought she meant and travelled up the stairs to enter the small house. Inside, it became clear what this place was. The storage boxes, the workbench near the fire, the potions and vials on the shelf and the weapons hanging at the side of the wall revealed it to be a workshop. Although, the aforementioned fire and the many books around gave it a very welcoming feeling, suggesting that the workshop was someone's home. That someone was also inside, sitting by a desk with hot tea and reading a book. This one was a man young enough to be in his prime, but old enough to not be considered as a youngster. His attire was similar to Oscar's, with the long coat and the hood being the main features. There were however a few deviations. For one, his left arm wore a silver gauntlet, coupled with a shoulder guard on his left shoulder. His hood concealed the entirety of his face, but he did not wear a blindfold to hide his eyes. In fact, once he looked at you, you noticed that his eyes were blue like the young maiden outside, but they were ice-blue, emitting a colder presence.

"Oh, our new hunter. I bid you welcome to the Hunter's Dream and its workshop, your new home."

A hunter? This reminded you of the time when the small beings came to your cell earlier that day. When you passed out, a voice said something about a new hunter. Was she referring to you? If so, why were you called a hunter? As far as you knew, beast hunting was not a part of your previous life. But that was not all. The man called this the Hunter's Dream, did he not? He outright said that you were dreaming, so it was not real. You pinched yourself to see if you would wake up, but nothing happened. What's more, that pinch did hurt you a bit. It was a dream, but felt very real in every way. You turned your attention to the man and asked who he was.

"Me? Well, my name… my name is… my name is of no importance. I'm… a helper to you hunters. Think of me as your mentor, if that would satisfy you."

You grudgingly accepted that answer. Much like everything else, no one wanted to answer your questions. But you didn't want to pry on it, because it seemed that he was right. His name was not important. Not at that moment, at any rate.

"I'm sure you have more than a mountain of questions, but do not bother. There is no point to strain your thoughts on all of this. Just do what you are meant to do and hunt the beasts."

The man put his book down on the desk and grasped his tea mug for a sip. He then put the mug back and rose up from his chair. His right hand held out a piece of paper, which he gave to you.

"This is your contract. Fulfil the requirements, and you will be free to leave."

You took the contract from his hand and read through it. It was not much said there, but your objective was crystal clear.

 _To escape this dreadful hunter's dream, halt the source of the spreading scourge of beasts, lest the night carries on forever._

It was cryptic, and you knew your mentor was not going to answer if you asked what it meant. Instead you accepted it and thought that you would find out on your own.

"Oh, I almost forgot." The man said in surprise.

He went back to his desk and opened a small chest sitting right beside his book. He took out a small accessory and placed it in your other hand. Looking at it, you noticed it was shaped like a ring of fire.

"Think of this badge as a verification of you joining our ranks. Present it to the Messengers at the bath and they'll give you the tools you need. Hunters must never be toothless when facing beasts, after all."

Messengers? So there were more than you, your mentor and the maiden in the dream. At closer inspection of the badge, you realized that it was old and decaying. Did it mean that you were you the only hunter to receive the badge in a very long time?

* * *

 _Darksign Badge_

 _The badge of the old hunters of Yharnam, the successors of the first hunters and the predecessors to the church hunters._

 _The successors of the first hunters deviated from their teachers in the ways to deal with beasts, favouring more brutal and deadlier weaponry. Their preferred way of disposing beasts was through fire, which seemed to purify the deprived victims of the scourge._

 _The Healing Church do not recognize them as hunters, thinking of them as a collective of murderous ghouls and butchers. Quite the irony, for they share the same fascination for fire._

* * *

With that, you left the hunter's helper in his workshop and headed for the bath he mentioned. There, you found much to your shock one of the little beings from the cell. Apparently, they were residents of the dream too. It made sense, for it was probably them who made it possible for you to come to that place. You presented the badge for the messenger and it replied with much glee. At the bath, a cleaver with the qualities of a saw rose from the water, along with a blunderbuss. You had never seen or used weapons of that calibre, but there was something familiar about them. Just by placing them in your hand, you knew exactly how to use them, despite your lack of training. Armed and ready, you headed for a headstone and braved the night again.

...

You awoke again, but back into the city of Yharnam. The view was different that time around. Instead of seeing the towering buildings under a sky of dusk, you were surrounded by the large walls with the sky above barley visible. The stone floor you lied on felt very familiar, in the worst way possible. You knew then that this was where you died.

Near you was a lantern held by the messengers of the dream. It was the link between you and the dream, meaning that you were neither free from the nightmare of Yharnam nor from the hunter's dream. There was only one thing you could do. Complete your contract, which meant joining the hunt.

The city was a maze beyond belief. No path went straight nor were they just going up or down. Each time you thought you went the right way, you would come across a land mark you saw before. The only indication of your destination was the bridge above you. The same bridge you were thrown off of. That was the entrance of the cathedral ward, where you were going before the enormous beast had you killed. The more you thought about it, you questioned yourself if it was a good idea to go back there. After all, it might've remained. The confidence you found when you took up arms waned. It was a beast of an enormous size, most likely thirty-six feet tall. To take it head on with the expectation to win would be the epitome of hubris. There must another way. Another path.

To your side, you heard the coughing of a dying man. You turned to your left and saw the alley where it most likely came from. Fearing the possibility of it being a trap, you took careful steps through the path and looked at every corner in expectation of an ambush. At the end of your path, a very familiar face was leaning on a wall with the feint sun shining upon him. It was Oscar, dying in a dark corner of this wretched city.

"Is… is that you? You're alive?" He said with a hoarse voice.

His surprise is not unfounded. You were thrown off a bridge and crushed in every part of your body. You truly died, yet here you were.

"I don't know… how it is possible, but it matters not. I don't have much time left. Truly, you are a godsend to come at this hour."

With his rather weak hands, he made a simple wave to beckon you to him. You obeyed and approached him, knelling to have a better look at him. His injuries were severe and would not waste time to put him to death. You reached for your pouch to see if you had any healing blood left, but Oscar raised his hand in protest.

"Don't bother. I've already taken blood and it was not enough. You need it more than I for what's to come. Heh heh heh, some hunter I am, falling before the night had even begun." He said as his head looked up towards the bridge above his and your head.

"I've made quite a blunder. I should've known the gate to the Cathedral Ward would be blocked. Even if it wasn't, the Cleric Beast guards the bridge. There is no hope of reaching the Healing Church from there."

You experienced a mixture of dissatisfaction and relief. Your way into the Cathedral Ward was a dead end and you did not know any other paths in. On the other hand, you did not have to face that beast again.

He took a deep breath and raised his head to look at you. His blindfold still covered his eyes, yet he stared at you as if he saw you with his own eyes.

"You've had the dream too?" He asked.

These words made you wonder what dream he was talking about. He spoke as if he and you were not the first to have a similar dream.

"The dreams of fire, dark and the moon. None of it makes any sense to us, but six words are embedded into our minds when it ends. Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt."

There was that word again. Paleblood. The very thing that brought you here. To think that Oscar was after the same thing. You knew then that the reason why he helped you was that shared goal.

"I cannot hope to find the answer now, but perhaps you can carry on for us both. *cough* I know you want to leave this accursed place, but if this Paleblood holds the answer to end this nightmare, someone must discover it."

Oscar suddenly started to groan, but not in pain. He shook his head, as if he was trying to keep himself sane. The fellow hunter appeared to have held something back. He gripped your arm with what little strength he still had in him. With your eyes drawn to it, you saw what he was suffering from. His hand showed signs of fur.

"Please…*cough*… You're all that's left."

Even if you wanted to leave, you knew that the contract from the Hunter's Dream bounded you to Yharnam and the hunt. You nodded and accepted his request, but what else was there to do? Even so, Oscar smiled.

"There is no time. I can feel it coming now. Head for the aqueduct south of the bridge and find the tomb of Seath. There should be another…*cough*… entrance there."

Oscar had more trouble to speak by then. Constantly coughing up blood as much as he had made the fact that he could speak at all a miracle. A very short-lived miracle.

"Before you go, I have a final request."

Oscar let his hand go from your arm and grabbed your blunderbuss you kept in your right hand, placing it on his forehead. You instantly knew what he wanted and hesitation crept up in your mind.

"It is too late for me. I hate to harm you or anyone else. Don't think of me as human, but as a latent beast. I beg of you… make it easy for me."

As ugly as the whole ordeal was, leaving him be would be far too cruel. Whatever morality compels you, the act of killing is for once an act of kindness.

"Godspeed… and thank you."

Those words were his last for once he said them, you pulled the trigger and blew his face off. His hand lost its strength and its grip on your blunderbuss, falling to the ground beside your feet. Blood ran like a fountain from his head, soaking his entire upper half of his body. Oscar was dead and gone and he was not coming back, not like you. This man was someone you knew nothing about, but someone who you owed a great debt to. He was your saviour, a guiding light in a dark and cold nightmare. Looking at his disfigured corpse, you had a hard time to believe you really helped him. The kill was so gruesome that you felt sick to the point you threw up and your hands would not stop shaking. Merciful or no, you murdered someone after all. However, as terrible as it was, it would not be the last tragedy that awaited you in Yharnam, let alone the worst one. Knowing that, you forcefully tried to stomach your anguish.

"This town is done for."

Faint as it was, you heard someone spoke from the way you came. You did not know who or what said it, but you had your suspicions.

"It's a curse...a curse."

It sounded a lot like the huntsmen who have wandered around the streets. They were close and would no doubt kill you on sight. Prepared to face the dark again, you took your Saw and unfolded it to its secondary form, the long claver.

...

Time being an uncertain factor, you had no idea how long had passed since then. The sun was still setting, or more accurately, stopped setting. All you knew was that it felt like an hour. By then, you were at a small bridge that you reached through the sewers. And behind you, a dozen bodies of dead huntsmen, butchered by your hand. Quite the transition, for you had not stained your hand in so much blood when you first set foot in Yharnam. In less than one night, a seemingly ordinary person turned into a bloodied hunter. It was not long ago when you were struggling to cope with your killing of Oscar. What could've possibly been the catalyst of this rather swift change? Maybe Oscar's death made it easier for you, or was it the more unsettling alternative, that you had found something enchanting about the hunt?

By the end of the bridge, you were greeted by another alleyway. It was a lot shorter than the last one you went to, but the view of closed walls and narrow pathways started to irritate you. Yharnamites seemed overly fond of their labyrinth design of this city. Makes one wonder how anyone got around in the days before everything fell apart. Grocery shopping must've been a nightmare. Not as much as the current one, of course. At the end of the alley, you finally reached the tomb. However, it was not silent as one would normally think of tombs. You were not alone.

Further in, you saw that the trees were decorated with corpses hanging with their heads facing the ground. About more than twenty bodies were seen, with one more who was still alive. It was a young woman, probably an ordinary person unfortunate to be outside during the hunt. She was barely conscious with all her blood gone to her head. The way her clothes were torn and her mangled face shows she was taken by force. In fact, every hanged corpse shared that image of brutality, whatever if they were men, women or children. You heard her weak voice pleading for mercy, wanting only to go to her home and forget the night. Just know that her pleadings were not for you, but her captor who was just her side. With a long silver sword, he slowly opened her throat and let all her blood pour down into a vessel that was underneath her. It was by then you noticed that there was a vessel beneath every corpse in the tomb. Her captor became aware of your presence, turning his attention to you.

"Who… what are you? Human? Beast? Vileblood? No, I can hear the blood sing around you. You… are a hunter."

The tone of that last sentence ominously expressed delight. Whatever he was, it was clear what he wanted of you. His figure was unveiled when he stepped out from the shadows, revealing his bloodied grey robes. The patterns inscribed all over his clothes and the long cape on his back suggested him being a part of the Healing Church. The most striking feature was a golden tinted helmet that was shaped like a cone. He possibly couldn't see you through it, but like Oscar, he knew exactly where you were. To see beyond their two eyes seemed to be a trait of the people of Yharnam. As he washed off the blood from his silver sword, he armed his left hand with a golden gun of an unusual design. The trees seemed to have found a new addition to their decoration.

* * *

 _Executioner Leeroy_

* * *

In less than a second, you found yourself near the point of the sliver sword, just inches away from your throat. In that same second, you tilted your head and neck to your left, barley avoiding its sting. It managed to scrape you, leaving a shallow cut. Not a moment too soon, Leeroy was already preparing a second swing, aiming for your neck again. Like the last one, you again evaded his strike, though it still felt like he almost had you. His onslaught was swift and fierce, never allowing you to catch your breath. Fortunately, your reflexes were good enough to dodge every single attack. It was only by the sixth strike he connected, making a light wound on your left arm. It was nothing major, but the injury was painful enough that it made you twitch. That moment of distraction proved to be nearly fatal, for Leeroy's golden gun was then pressed at your stomach. If he fired, there would've been a large hole left there, but you reacted well and pressed your Saw Cleaver onto his gun, pushing it to the side as it fired. In that instant, he was exposed.

It was the opportunity you needed, so you made your move and swung your weapon, aiming for his left hip. It just happened that he had the same the same reflexes as you and avoided it with ease. The roles were switched and Leeroy stabbed your right leg. He really saw you behind that golden helmet.

If you were still you without the Yharnam Blood to strengthen you, that wound would've prevented you from moving. But you were strong and soldiered on, as you proceeded to use your uninjured left leg to kick him away. That decision gave you time make a split second strategy on how to approach the battle. When you observed the grave stones, you knew that you had your wining tactic. Leeroy recovered and you started to run for it. The Executioner gave chase and fell for your faint. Just as he winded up a new attack, you side stepped to your right and rolled behind the gravestones. His sword's reach could not get to you with all these obstacles and his gun would be blocked by solid stone. The opening was set and you stood up from your cover to strike. With your weapon in its saw form, the moment you swung was when you activated the mechanism to extend it to its cleaver form. Your move was so instant that your enemy had no time to react, which ended with the cleaver carving a deep gash into his chest. The one advantage you had was that your range was far superior to Leeroy's.

Angered by his lack of inflicting any meaningful damage to you, he sheathed his sword to his back and brought it down with a large upper swing. The attack did not hit you, but it destroyed your cover. It turned out that his sheath was an enormous mace as big as himself. If that thing found its target before, it would've pounded you into the ground and mangled your entire upper body into lumps of meat.

"They don't stop. Never do they stop screaming. All pleading for mercy when there is none. Oh… it enough to make one mad."

What was left of his mind seemed to have drowned slowly into the sea of madness. What was especially curious is that what caused his sanity to balance on a thread was not the beasthood within him. Instead of being overpowered by his desire for blood, his frenzy lied in some form of inner anxiety.

With his changed approach, Leeroy advanced with heavy swings of his giant mace. Because his weapon was ten times heavier than before, each attack was more easily telegraphed and predictable. What really put you at a disadvantage was that his strikes covered more space, therefore every evasion you made required more drastic movement. After his fourth swing and your fourth dodge, you lost balance and fell on your back. Seeing you at his mercy, the church hunter held his weapon over his head, ready to deliver the coup de grace. He fell upon you too late however, since you successfully rolled to your side before the mace hit the ground. Sooner than he could respond to your evasion, you fired a shot from your blunderbuss and a swarm of scattered bullets rained on him. It didn't damage him enough to be fatal, but it surely stunned him, leaving himself open for another attack. You jumped off the ground, folded your cleaver into its saw form and hacked him in the back, leaving another deep gash. Leeroy was gravely injured on his front and back. So much that any lesser man would've been dead at that point. But his fortitude was unnatural as yours, and he proved it through attacking you again, unhindered by his clearly diminished health. You knew where his mace was aiming, so you stepped back to avoid it again. Despite your foresight, it did not predict the dark red ethereal skull which appeared out of nowhere and launched you across the tomb.

Whatever just happened to you, the force was so ferocious that it felt like you were kicked by a giant. Despite the pain, you tried to rise from the ground, only for Leeroy to come charging at you and clash his mace unto your chest. The resulting collision shattered all of your ribs and severely harmed your lungs. You could feel the air slipping and the broken bones clutching to your chest. So unbearable it was that your heart nearly stopped in shock. Once again, the non-hunter you would've already been dead. As you were on your knees, you saw that the Executioner's mace was covered in a ghostly mist emitting a dark red colour. It was as if his weapon was cursed.

Both you and Leeroy were at death's door, but you were several steps closer than him. Fitting his title was, for it was then he played the role as your executioner. He detached his sword from his mace sheath and prepared to plunge the blade to your heart. Although in pain, your senses were not lost yet and you made the last-second decision to push the blade to the side with your hand. The blade was quick enough to still thrust into your shoulder, but your reaction prevented it from reaching your heart. As expected, you felt the pain, but you didn't care at that point. With his sword locked in place, you picked up your trick weapon, transformed it into its cleaver form and split his head in two. His golden helmet did nothing to stop your strike.

* * *

 _Prey Slaughtered_

* * *

With the battle over, your adrenaline rush faded and the pain came back. The closeness of death made you forget how in much anguish you were in. Since you were still breathing, albeit with heavy difficulty, you took some of the healing blood you had stacked and injected it into your right leg. The wounds closed themselves and your bones grew back, restoring your body to a healthy state. The pain remained, but at least you stopped yourself from dying.

You looked over the corpse of Leeroy, wondering about who he was and what possibly drove him to madness. He was not in the process to become a beast, so what did cause him such pain? You also noticed that he was still holding on to his blade. If memory served, something was odd with it. Curious as a cat, you removed it from his hand and examined it. It seemed normal when dormant, though the craftsmanship of the blade was exceptional. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the weapon did not imbue you with the knowledge to wield it like your Saw Cleaver.

* * *

 _Sanctus and Grant_

 _A trick weapon remade from the sacred treasures of the Church, composing of the sword Sanctus and the mace Grant. Wielded by Executioner Leeroy, one of the first church hunters and protégé of Bishop Havel, the founder of the order of Executioners._

 _This weapon has bathed in the blood of the people of Cainhurst, whose spirits still linger inside it. All they remember is their last moments and all they know is to curse the living._

 _Leeroy was the only one who could wield the cursed weapon, at least for a time._

* * *

Seeing as you could not use it, as well as fearing that you would follow his example if you kept it, you discarded the sword. Then you proceeded to remove the cleaver from his head, which was stuck quite tightly. With no other obstacles to hinder your quest, you walked up the stairs to the gate and opened your way to the Cathedral Ward.

The following path past the gate was like entering a house through the cellar. It started with what appeared as a drainage, which had the smell of dead bodies. It was a smell that you've been accustomed to at that point. A ladder led up to an abandoned place of study. The amount of books were quite high and there were several trinkets that showed that studies in astrology had been made. You payed attention to a special note that sat by a globe.

 _Even as a corpse, its will and its voice remains. In communion, our lost master blesses us with their children for us to mother. I've heard it is rather euphoric. It makes me quite thrilled._

The paper of the note was torn from top to bottom, making only that paragraph readable. Ignoring the fact that whoever wrote this had an unspoken fetish you would rather not know of, what did this person mean with a corpse still retaining a will and voice? What other kind of nightmares did Yharnam hide? Hopefully, you would never find out.

You continued onward to another set of stairs leading to a door. It was shut quite tight and was quite heavy. It was however not locked, so you used your strength to pry it open. As the crack in the middle of the door split itself open, the interior was then unravelled to you. It was a sight of lighted candles, pots containing cremated ash, shrouds hanging in the ceiling and statues both weeping and praying on all sides. What's more, the statues had the face of some strange deformity that resembled sea life, which definitely did not sit well with you. This was Seath's Chapel.

In the middle of the chapel, there was another lantern like the one you awoke from. You felt a great relief upon seeing it, since you could finally rest without fear hanging over you. Once you touched it, the lantern lit its purple light and messengers ascended from the ground to pray at it like it was a religious altar. With that task done, you fell on the ground, exhausted by all the battles you fought. You needed rest and you earned it well. You decided to take your time and sleep for a short while, for the incoming night had yet to test your true mettle.

* * *

 **Author's** **Note:**

 **This chapter was a bit longer than the previous one mostly for my overindulgence to describe places that most people reading this fic are already familiar with. If it was a bit much, I apologize. I will say that it just felt necessary for me in order to paint the world clearly in my mind, as well as I need to practice on descriptions of place and time.**

 **As you may have noticed, I've also introduced Item Descriptions similar to a Souls game in this chapter. Originally, I was planning on telling the same story and lore of Bloodborne with just different characters, but through my planning, I ended up crafting a new lore with the new cast. To me, at the very least, it makes it feel more like a Souls game. Although, it will still follow the same footsteps of the game's story.**

 **Now, we are two chapters in and we have not seen many of the characters from Dark Souls yet. The ones who have appeared were rather minor in the original game and/or concealed for future chapters. Rest assured, however, that there will be three fan favourites appearing in the next chapter. I'm looking forward to reveal them when the time comes.**


	3. Chapter 3

You couldn't dream. Normally if you had no dreams after your rest, you just couldn't remember what you dreamed about. There was always the sensation that something greeted you that night and left a mark in your mind. Even if you forgot it, you knew it was there. But ever since you joined the hunt, the dreams stopped. You would just sleep and wake again with nothing to comfort or horrify you in between. That feeling of emptiness made you long for your unconscious fantasies, even the nightmares. Anything was better than nothing.

Of course you had no dreams, because you were already in a dream.

...

In your awakening, a very familiar place appeared to you. The bright night sky and the cold winds of high could only belong to the Hunter's Dream, your home and prison. To see it conjured up mixed feelings. For one, you were safe from the hunt and able to rest without worry. The dream was secluded from the waking world in every perceivable way. On the other hand, it was a cell that shackled you till your contract was complete. As long as the hunt wasn't over, you would forever remain in the dream and in Yharnam. Either you would spend an eternity in a small garden, or you would face your fears and die in pain time after time. Whatever your choice would be, suffering would accompany you.

You rose from the ground and prepared to embark on another voyage through Yharnam. Yet before you reached out for the headstone, your eyes were drawn to the maiden sitting by the lantern. Like the first time you awoke in the dream, she was sitting there, silently sleeping like before. After your exploration of central Yharnam, you saw madness incarnate which put your experience in the asylum to shame. Once again, she seemed as if she were the personification of the world devoid of the horrors of the hunt. The only thing that reminded you that even she was a part of the nightmare was her bloodstained skirt. You let out a sigh as you thought of how wrong everything was. Yet these thoughts broke, thanks to a voice that suddenly appeared in your head.

"I'm so sorry."

The voice felt rather familiar. You recalled from an earlier memory that the same voice spoke to you after the messengers visited your cell in the asylum. The voice of a maiden in melancholy. Hearing it again brought something to your attention. This youthful sound of a woman suits the maiden at the lantern too well. When you drew your attention to her, you saw her awake with an expression of surprise.

"You… you can hear me?"

Her lips did not move. Like before, the voice was not heard from your ears, but from your mind. She was speaking through thought.

"So… the gods have given you enlightenment, like every hunter before you."

What gods? Worship of the divine was not uncommon and a polytheistic religion was present in your homeland. It was just that you've heard that Yharnamites prayed to something else entirely. But you didn't think on it further and instead asked the maiden who she was.

"I… I hope I do not offend you with my impure tongue. My voice is meant to be silenced, but I will speak to you, good hunter."

Her head was locked on the ground after these words, as if she does not wish to gaze at you.

"I'm Anastacia, a mender of the dream. My duty is to tend to you, as well as to our master. Good hunter, the dying wishes, the echoes of blood course through in your veins. I can mend you to let these echoes become your strength."

It was then you realized that you never noticed these echoes. In fact, you couldn't notice them. You definitely felt different, but you couldn't say if it was because of these blood echoes.

"Please, let me be an aid to you."

Anastacia laid out her hand for you. Unsure what exactly she was about to do, you reluctantly placed your own hand on her palm.

"Now, let the echoes become your strength. Shut your eyes and listen to the wishes of the blood."

You followed her instructions and began to finally notice these echoes. Cries of agony, madness and despair of those who died by your hand echoed in your mind. Bits of memories of their lives before their degeneration appeared and disappeared in instants, making you unable to make them out. In such a swirling vortex of echoes, you felt your significance, your sense of self slipping away. Just when you were about to lose yourself, the thoughts just vanished from your mind. No trace was left and you forgot what even passed through your mind. Instead, both your body and spirit felt much stronger than before.

"It is done. The blood has been cleansed."

There were many doubts in your mind after your encounter with Leeroy, all being centred on your ability to procced with the hunt. The minute you received the strength of the echoes, these thoughts ceased to be. You found confidence and deemed yourself capable of succeeding in your duty. You were then ready to return to the hunt and headed for the headstone.

"Farewell, good hunter."

Anastacia's voice reminded you that you actually rudely turned your back to her without even showing a sign of gratitude. For whatever reason, you didn't say the words, but instead bowed your head as a gesture of thanks. Anastacia, who always had a gloomy expression, replied with a small, yet sweet smile.

"May you find a pleasant awakening."

...

You awoke in the chapel where you left last time. Looking around your surroundings, you became aware that no one was there. The place certainly appeared haunting with its statues of weeping abominations, but who would be so foolish to deny a possible sanctuary just because it looked daunting? Well, it might've not been a safe place on closer inspection. The doors were open after all.

Even if you didn't know which way you should've taken, you felt that the door to your left was the path you needed to take. As you stepped out of the chapel into a graveyard, you noticed someone standing amongst the graves. A man of average height, wore a formal garb with a short cape attached and carried a cane. He would've seemed like a formal gentleman with an attire such as that, if he did not wear a metal bucket over his head.

You carefully advanced him with your weapon ready. You didn't know if he was hostile or friendly, but you had yet to meet a sane soul in this city. Your careful approach was in vain however, since the bucket man noticed you when you weren't even ten meters close. Once he faced you, you could see his helm had a visor he could see through.

"Why, good evening. Oh, pretend you didn't hear that. The hunt is on tonight, after all."

That was unexpected. Even if you anticipated him to be non-hostile, his politeness did not belong to the world you were traversing. It made you ease your guard a bit, although you wouldn't drop it completely.

"I'm Solaire, Master of the beast hunting league. Now, you look quite sane in comparison to the populace on the hunt. Are you perhaps a foreigner to Yharnam?"

You answered his question with a nod.

"Well, that makes two of us. Yharnamites are forever distrustful of outsiders, but hunters accept all in their ranks. Except beasts, of course."

Solaire ended his sentence with a laugh. He seemed perfectly jovial despite being out on the hunt, but finding humour in all of this revealed his full awareness of the terror that loomed. Maybe it was his way to cope with the slaughter.

"Tell me, in these gloomy and tireless nights, do you think this meeting if that of chance? If the hunt is becoming too arduous, having another hunter sharing your burden lightens the load. What say you? Why not help each other out?"

It was much to ask of you to trust him. Even if he appeared friendly, who said it was all a façade to snare you into a trap? In a city drowned in madness, who could be trustworthy? In spite of your doubts, you were willing to place your faith on Solaire and accepted his proposal.

"Wonderful. It pleases me greatly to find another hunter to call my ally. Here, take this."

In his hand, Solaire held out a bell with the sigil of a sun. Once you accepted it and inspected it for a closer look, you noticed that the bell was quite old with its torn metal chunks and many scratches.

"A hunter is not always close, but one can always hear the chime of this bell if they possess a similar bell. With a simple toll, you can summon another across place and time to engage in jolly co-operation. Be warned, not every hunter who hears the chime will be a friend, as some may come as you adversary. But be reassured that the league is never far behind the sound of a beckoning bell."

So even aid came with its own risks. As you remembered your encounter with Leeroy in the tomb, you knew other hunters were far more dangerous than any mere beast. You thought to yourself that the bell had to be used wisely, which was only when your struggles became too much to handle.

"Now, I believe it is time to return to the hunt. I'll stay here and look at the sun a bit more. The nights of the hunt has deprived me from seeing it. Oh, how I miss its light."

As he suggested, you left the graveyard to return to the hunt, but he remained in your thoughts. Solaire was so out of place in Yharnam that you started to doubt if he was even real. His optimism either showed that he was strong in both mind and body, or that he was simply a fool. His last words to you before you left revealed an idealistic desire to end the hunt. It made sense of why there was a sun on the bell he gave you.

* * *

 _Beckoning Bell of the League_

 _An old bell refashioned for the beast hunting league. The sound of its clanging crosses the sea of worlds and calls for any hunter who listens, wherever they are._

 _The league is a company of hunters seen as the true decedents of the first hunters, unlike the old hunters who became more like the beasts themselves. Their willingness to aid another fulfils the tenets of the first hunters, who hunted for the safety of others and not to appease their own lust for blood._

 _Members of the league revere the sun as a god, or more like a magnificent father. Hunters live through the night, so the sun is a symbol a day they are never awake to see._

* * *

 _..._

Upon further exploration of the Cathedral Ward, you realized that weren't any beasts around. Oscar mentioned that the bridge gate was closed off, so the church must've shut their doors when the scourge arrived. And so it became a safe haven, at least for a time. When you arrived, the same insanity plagued the streets of the ward, although through a different cause. Besides Solaire, all you found were three-meter tall deformed men and giants large as houses. They wore the same garments of white long coats and black hats, which you assumed were the clothing of the members of the Healing Church. Judging by the how they were morphed, your best guess was that they were experiments conducted by the church to combat the beasts. Considering that their foundation was healing blood, it's hardly a surprise. The Church men were quite tough, but nothing you couldn't handle. The Giants, on the other hand, you were not willing to test your luck on. Not only were they big, but they carried gigantic axes that would cleave you in half in a single swing. Instead, you committed yourself to stealth and avoided them when you could. There really wasn't anything to prove for taking them head on.

Further in, you came across a church man who leaned against a large gate. He did not act like the rest, for he was just standing there holding the bars, sobbing. You couldn't understand what it was all about. To see one of the deformed men expressing emotions such as sadness struck you with disbelief. So instead of trying to use the opportunity to ambush him, you decided to approach him with no intent of hostility. Regrettably, once the man noticed you, he attacked with frenzy, prompting you into shooting him in self-defence. With a large hole in his chest caused by your blunderbuss, he fell on the ground with rivers of blood pouring out of him. The feeling of disgust of your act made you realize something disturbing. You had grown apathetic in your killing.

"It was about time. The wailings of a mad man make for tedious listening."

Apparently, your attention on the aberrant one made you unable to notice what was behind the gate. There was another man, clad in a long coat with a feathery cape and wore a metal mask that covered his entire face, including his eyes. Unlike Solaire, this man did not sound pleasant, as his tone expressed disregard for life. Then again, you did not exactly live up to moral standards, for you had left a trail of corpses on your path.

"You there. Still sane are you? If so, then help me to open this gate. The contraption on this side of the gate is not functioning, for reasons that confound me. That deviant, he was carrying the key but did not know how to use it, the sorry fool."

Something told you not to help him, but you had to get through the gate to reach the great cathedral. Besides, why would you fear him if you couldn't be killed in the first place? And so, you searched the corpse for some sort of key, but found nothing of that sort. All you did find was a cloth emblem in his otherwise empty pockets. But before you knew it, the emblem glimmered with a dim light and the gate opened right afterwards. Whatever kept the gate closed, it certainly couldn't have been swayed by human force.

"Ah, my sincerest thanks."

The man took a bow of deep respect. This gesture gave the impression of nobility, something that was not suggestive in his attire.

"I am Lautrec of Cainhurst. Your act of goodwill will not go unrewarded, but I have to repay you later. You will find me at Seath's Chapel."

Cainhurst? It was not a place you've heard of before, but it seemed it was a place separate from Yharnam. Either way, it was unlikely you would ever see it.

"We'll meet again, unless the beasts get to you first. Keh heh heh heh heh."

His farewell was rather unnerving, though it was probably a rather dark sense of humour. Then again, a city where death is common place is bound to cause such apathy.

...

As you went further into the Cathedral Ward, you began to hear whispers of disjointed voices, as if you heard the voices of memories. The more you killed, the more these voices started to become clearer. These were the blood echoes, and it seemed you heard them without Anastacia's mending. It was truly becoming bothersome. All the more reason to find a new lantern and return to the dream and be rid of the voices. This city had plenty for you to worry about at that point.

You finally arrived at the enormous doors to the Great Cathedral and pried them open. Inside, you were welcomed by large statues of what could only be described as men with a squid for a head. A humours description, but not a humours sight. They possessed malformed head with tentacles acting as if it were facial hair. Not to mention they carried fishermen spears and held them out in a fashion similar to knights who welcome royalty. What in the world were Yharnam's denizens worshipping?

As disturbing as it was, you ended up ignoring them in order to procced further into the Cathedral. You did not know what you would find, but hoped for the promise of Paleblood, whatever it was. Once you reached the end of the stairs, you witnessed the great hall of the church. It was empty, save for an altar at the end, and someone kneeling in prayer. That someone was clad in grey cloaks and pieces of golden tinted armour. In his right hand he carried a large spear taller than him. Since he was on his knees in front of an object of worship, his face couldn't be seen. When you moved closer, you noticed that the previous distance obscured the size of the man, for he was three meters tall. Not only that, but cracks in his armour revealed the fur it was hiding. There was no doubt about it, he was descending into beasthood.

Then, he started to growl in agony. His body was shacking as he was resisting, showing signs of him clinging to his humanity. It ended in futility, for his final transformation made him grow two more meters and pieces of his armour snapped off. It was then his human growls were altered into the growls of a lion. In his newfound beast form, he finally payed attention to the intruder and focused his gaze on you. His face was concealed by a mask fashioned after a lion's face. Even as a beast, he still carried his weapon, presenting traces of his remaining sanity. The beast thrust the spear into the ground, causing it to emit electricity sparks. What stood before you was not a hunter, but he wasn't a true beast either.

* * *

 _Orenstein_ _of the Hallowed Spear_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **The one thing I was looking forward to the most was to write about the Bloodborne version of Solaire and Lautrec. In fact, it was these thoughts that gave birth to the idea of this very fic.**

 **As you may have noticed, the League is quite toned down in this version. The original league were hunters with a fanatical obsession to purge Yharnam of "Vermin", which really would not reflect well on the Solaire we know and love. I could've made him a darker version of the character, but his warm personality and overall optimism is what makes him so lovable, so I made the league more like the Warriors of Sunlight covenant.**

 **Unfortunately** **, this might be the last update for a while. As much as I enjoy writing this, real life always find a way to get in the way. I'm having a very busy summer that makes me unable to fully commit to this project, so updates can be very slow from now on. I'm not abandoning this fic, but I have little free time for going on as I have.**

 **Anyways, I hope you'll stick around long enough to see how round 3 with Orenstein goes.**


	4. Chapter 4

Tired. So very tired. This was all your mind and body kept telling you. No strength remained in your muscles or bones and the fire of your will had long grown dim. This was what it meant to be undying. To be a Hunter of the dream.

…

 _Seath's Chapel_

You didn't know how long you had been here, lying on the cold ground. The flow of time seemed to have been halted. Not only because the continuous exhaustion of your failures, but the night had yet to come. It didn't matter how long you waited, for the sun would not set. This was your limbo till the gatekeeper lied dead at your feet.

Your memories told you how this came to be. Mere moments after your intrusion into the cathedral, you came face to face with a Hunter who reached his final decent into beasthood. Yet, small senses of humanity remained, as he still held a spear like a man would. After that, you died.

Time and time again, the beast would strike you down. He had done nearly everything to you, be it impaling you with his spear, crushing you under his foot, breaking your body against a wall or tearing you apart with his fangs or claws. Yet, despite being maimed a thousand times, you still breathed. This curse would not let you rest, be it for bliss or woe.

"How long will you drown in your own self-pity? I thought that you had more than a passing sense of audacity to be a Hunter."

That voice belonged to not someone you sincerely knew, but someone you had met just recently. To your left, sitting beside an altar of a weeping woman, was Lautrec.

"You have your wits about you? Good, then I can finally fulfil my promise to you."

Without consideration to your state, he threw a trinket onto your chest. The weight of the artefact hurt your breast a bit, though you just shrugged it off. It was no spear to the stomach, after all. You took a look at it, recognizing it as a golden medal with a sun engraving. The same engraving as the one on your beckoning bell.

"Your reward. Please accept it."

* * *

 _League Medal_

 _Given to honoured Hunters by the Beast Hunting League, be they a fellow comrade or another visitor._

 _There was a time when the Healing Church offered Hunters such medals for their services, though it was time before the hunters became the hunted._

* * *

"Not enough for you? Let's not be greedy now, shall we?"

You didn't know that you looked stumped to Lautrec, making you appear ungrateful. You immediately corrected yourself and nodded in gratitude. With that, you rose from the stone chapel floor and sought the exit. Just so, you noticed that through your several deaths, the routine of trying again had been implanted to your subconscious.

"Wait a moment. I do have one more reward for you. Well, that is if I hear a chime."

…

Again, you returned to the cathedral, just before the stairs to the main hall. Though you could not see him, the murmuring growls of the beast did not fail to reach your ears. You took out the bell that Solaire gave you, remembering what he had told you. It was clear that your own powers could not topple the obstacle, so why not call for some aid? Nobody would truly think less of you for such an act. In the end, this was no sport for those who still remembered their humanity.

You stirred the bell twice and each chime echoed through the closed walls of the cathedral. The bell appeared to have emitted visible soundwaves, displaying its otherworldly nature. When the second echo had faded, you felt that something had responded to it and was calling back to you. With that, something that could not be better described than black goo, emerged from the ground. It looks like its boiling, and from its steam came the form of a man. This man was dressed in similar clothes to your own, though he wore a shawl bearing the League's sun crest. His face was obscured by a cloth mask, combined with a hat that nearly shadowed his eyes. Just as he finished his rise from ground, he gave you a dignified bow, like a fine gentleman. Though nothing directly proved it, your gut knew who it was.

Solaire, who seemed to prefer a change of wardrobe when hunting.

Another hunter appears, though not as mysterious as the previous. It seemed that Lautrec's second gift was his aid. You tried to talk with them, but neither Hunter responded to your words. They followed you wherever you walked, acting more as puppets. Maybe the bell beckoned the phantoms of the Hunter, but not the Hunters themselves. Regardless of such speculations, their intent was clear.

With your newfound allies at your side, you trespassed into the cathedral hall again with Orenstein standing by the alter. This scene has forever been etched into your memory, and if it was bound to repeat itself…

Orenstein lunged at you with terrifying speed with his spear ready to perform a thrust. He always started with this attack, so you stepped to your right to avoid it. Before your enemy took notice of your evasion, you quickly slipped under to get behind him, but not without grazing his left leg with your saw cleaver. Aware of your changed position, the beast turned to glue his attention to you, ignoring your two companions. Just as planned.

Lautrec charged first, burying his shotel into Orenstein's neck. The beast screamed in agony and made the attempt to shake him off, but the Cainhurst Hunter removed his blade swiftly and left a gaping wound. In anticipation of the next attack, Solaire quickly moved in to stand between Lautrec and Orenstein, with his shield raised high. The impact of the beast's unarmed hand nearly knocked the league master off his feet, but he held his ground.

Your enemy payed no attention to you, so you ran into the fray and extended your weapon into the long cleaver, cutting a few more wounds into his hide. Again, Orenstein changed his target, and again you and your companions would attack him where his sight was not. Despite the traces of humanity the beast had preserved, his intelligence was not properly intact. He would fall for the same trick, time after time. Though he certainly did not fail to harm the hunters, their wounds were quickly made trivial with the use blood vials. After many gaping wounds, Orenstein finally grew weary. Never before had you come so far. He had always made a mockery of your struggles with his strength and made you taste defeat countless times. The tables had been turned, for he was at your mercy, and you would show none in kind.

Orenstein thrusted his spear in your direction again, but you didn't even try to evade it by moving to the side. Knowing his reach, you simply stepped backwards and the spear stopped at its track. But in that instance, the spear tip extended itself and pierced into your chest. Then the blade started to generate electricity before an eruption of lightning launched you across the hall. You managed to survive, but you had one foot in the grave.

You quickly stretched out for a blood vial, but your foe was not so polite to wait for you. Like the lion he represented, he stormed at his prey and directed his spear for the killing blow. But just as you accepted your fate, a blinding light lit up and took away the beast's sight, halting his advance.

That light came from your left, and the one who stood there was Solaire with his shield high. The beast's eyes recovered quickly and changed his target to the League Hunter. In that moment, he revealed his trick and triggered his shield to emit a great flash of light, stunning Orenstein once more. Lautrec joined the fray and gets underneath Orenstein to inflict various flesh wounds with his shotel. That brief window gave you the opportunity to recover, so you reached out for a blood vial and injected yourself with its healing properties. When fully restored, you quickly dashed towards the beast's blind spot with your saw cleaver in its extended form. However, he made a grand sweep with his spear, knocking Solaire and Lautrec back and catching you within its radius. The blade grazed your chest and snapped off your weapon in half.

You were able to keep your feet firmly on the ground, not bothered with your gaping chest wound. Alas, with your companions out of reach and without a proper weapon, you were helpless against the enraged beast whose attention was fixed on you alone.

Yet you did not waver, not in the slightest. Even without a blade, the battle vigour stayed strong. When the spear was just within reach, you evaded it flawlessly. In that close range, you aimed your blunderbuss at its face and sprayed it with a shower of lead. The force alone managed to stun the beast. You tossed your gun away and rushed in with nothing but your bare hands. With a ferocity greater than any beast, you thrusted both your hands and buried them deep into your foe's exposed throat. A raw instinct took over your mind. A savage voice that only knew two words.

 _Tear and rend. Tear and rend._

You exhausted your strength to its utmost limit, slowly ripping open a gaping hole. The warm red blood came raining down on you while Orenstein tried to scream, only to find his voice muffled. Then all his movements stopped and slowly fell to the ground. Finally, the bane of your existence laid broken at your feet.

* * *

 _Prey Slaughtered_

* * *

The sense of relief you felt outshined anything you had experienced before. You let out a small laughter of joy, though it may have sounded a bit sinister to any onlookers. You turned your attention to your companions, whom were instrumental to your success, but they were nowhere to be seen. Even if they were merely projections of these hunters, you wanted to thank them. But as soon as you took your step, you hit something heavy and noticed Orenstein's lightning spear, which had been curiously shrunken down to human size.

* * *

 _Darkbeast Spear_

 _One of the most ancient weapons of the Workshop, recently reconstructed by the master smith Rickert to discharge electricity. Wielded by Orenstein, one of the first hunters and captain of the hunters of the healing church._

 _This weapon was inspired by the Darkbeasts, though it proved to be less effective in harming regular beasts when compared to fire. Perhaps this weapon was for another type of prey._

* * *

Like Lerroy's blade, the spear was not granting you knowledge to wield it. Seeing as it was little more than a pretty spear in your hands, you quickly forgot about it and headed towards the altar the beast prayed to.

You looked at it and saw the relic of worship. Not to your surprise, it was no pretty artefact of gold or silver, but the skull of a beast. Considering who beasts truly were, it was not hard to imagine that its previous owner was of great importance, like a messiah figure or a prominent martyr. That was not all, for there seemed to be some form mystical aura to the object that drew it to you. You reached out your hand to touch it, but before the first finger was laid upon it, everything your eyes saw disappeared from you, replaced by a setting you didn't recognise.

…

The place before you were nothing special. It was simply a study belonging to some rich man of learning. All this room contained was just piles upon piles of books with the occasional relic. But the strange thing was that without your accord, your head moved to change your view. It was then you realised that the sight was not through your own eyes. What you saw was a memory of someone else.

"Master Logan, I believe we have had this discussion before."

You saw two men before you. One who was a youth with a student uniform and plain black hair, and the other who was wearing a ridiculously large hat that concealed his face.

"Oh, I know. I know. And my answer will remain the same."

"Is there no way to persuade you to join our cause?"

"No. I trust you have not forgotten our maxim?"

"I have not. No need to worry about the sisters, for their blood shall not find their way to those undeserving of its blessings."

Logan made no reply to the man's promise.

"I must take my leave."

Just as he left through the door, the man whose memory you observed moved to follow him, only to halt at the door when he heard the mummering of Logan.

"Fear it, Griggs. You must fear it."

Without saying a word to his master, the student left through the door and closed it behind him. He made a quick sprint to catch up with Griggs, who was already half-way through the hall. However, Griggs stopped and turned to face his colleague.

"Do not cast doubt on our path. I assure you that we will see the gods in our lifetime."

With a smile and a hand on his friend's shoulder, he let his breath out and said;

"Fear not the old blood, my friend. The communion shall begin."

…

Suddenly, you looked through your eyes once more, staring at the beast skull. There was nothing but more questions flowing through your mind, as well as crushing disappointment of how there was not even a passing mention of Paleblood. To your regret, your countless deaths and eventual victory only lead to a dead end.

"Father… please, father… I want to go home."

Whispers were heard from the alter. It was a whimpering voice, shaken by the terror. You moved to look to the right edge of the alter, and what you saw was a maiden cloaked in white robes.

"You… you are a hunter. Oh, thank the gods you came."

The cowl over her head nearly covered her hair with the exception of a few golden strings. Though she tried to act dignified, her face could not hid her constant expression of fear.

"I'm Rhea, cleric of the Healing Church. Tell me, what became of the beast?"

You didn't bother to answer the question. All you had to do was to move out of the way and show the giant carcass.

"You slew the beast, did you? How silly of me, of course you did. My mind must've gone blank for some time now."

Rhea stood up from the ground, still visibly shaking.

"Would you perhaps know of a safe haven? Now that the night has come, every door in the city will be shut."

The night? You noticed through the broken windows and the ray of white light that time had passed again. To your surprise, killing a note-worthy beast made the clock tick. Leaving that matter aside, you told her of Seath's Chapel.

"Thank you, dear hunter. I wish I knew if there was a way I could aid you. Unless…"

She stopped for moment to gather her thoughts, ignoring you entirely.

"Met me at the chapel at your earliest convenience. I'll show you there."

With that, the young cleric moved ahead of you back to the chapel. You, on the other hand, remained for a while to see if there was anything you missed. A secret passage, trails leading to another source or something simple as a small note. Alas, you found nothing. Defeated, you turned back to the only place worth returning to.

…

It was during the moonlit night that the Cathedral Ward became silent as the grave. All you could hear were the screams of men and the howls of beast in the lower city, far away from you. The monsters you had seen during the twilight hours were strangely absent. Since you were without a proper hunter's weapon, you felt even more unnerved than in the midst of a beast horde. Your eyes never looked away from the path, your ears were in constant vigilance and your nose always tried to sniff out potential enemies. Your ears caught trouble first, with the sound of a giant's breath. You slowed down your steps and looked around you, but there was no sign of it. You try to keep calm and prepare yourself for an attack, but the anticipation drove you mad. The minutes you looked for him could've easily been misunderstood as hours. Finally, at the great plaza before the large gateway, you unearthed your assailant, only to find him slumbering.

You heart calmed down, though you remained tense knowing that he could wake at any time. But before you moved back to the path, your eye captured the sight of an opened gate. One that was behind the sleeping giant. Nothing could tell you what awaited beyond that archway, so what could defeat your common sense to avoid it? Apparently, your curiosity.

With careful steps and your breath held, you managed to slip pass the giant with little trouble. The path was empty and quiet as the first one and no less filthy and depressing. More coffins littered the street and the stone roads had been drenched in human and beast blood. By that point, you didn't even bother to repeat the old question of who would want to live in this city. At the end of the trail, you sighted the edges of the city. Out there was a thick forest of large trees, that were only dwarfed by the giant broken windmill. You came across a giant door roughly the same size as the one to the cathedral. Seeing as the previous door provide no challenge, you did not doubt your strength to open it. With the strength of ten men you pushed, but to no avail. It wouldn't move an inch. You tried again, only to be met with more defiance. When your third try failed, the sound of someone chuckling passed through the stone door.

"Heh heh heh… the password."

This was the second time. First a dead end, and then a bloody password. Frustrated beyond all belief, you punched the door with enough force to tremble it. Since you obviously did not know the answer, there was no other choice but to turn back again.

"Mmm…Hrmmmmm…"

The sudden sound caught you by surprise, since you thought you were alone. You looked at the edge of the door to see another man, leaning against the wall while absorbed in thought. His clothing was quite peculiar, since it appeared that he was covered in many layers of cloth, explaining his bulky appearance. That, or he was simply just a very large man.

"Mm! Oh-hoh! Pardon me. I was absorbed in thought."

His face was concealed like most of the people you've met on your travels. Not by rugged hoods or large hats for once, but by a large iron helmet.

"I am Siegmeyer of Catarina."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Jesus Christ, has it really been more than a year since I last updated? I knew I wouldn't update for some time, but not for this long.**

 **So yeah, there hasn't been much time to develop this thanks to work and university, but I'm also guilty of the simple crime of just forgetting about it. Though I'm not abandoning this project, I grow a bit weary of keeping this up along with social responsibilities and writing original work.**

 **I don't know when the next one come out, if it will. I'm also working on a similar project that follows this formula, but with different series. Whichever one comes out first, I hope it'll not take a year this time.**

 **And with that, I bid you farewell. Also, thanks for the feedback I've received. Every little bit helps.**

 **P.S:**

 **I'd like to give a shout-out to an artist named Gähart Ri$chart, who makes quite fantastic fan art of Soulsborne titles, as well as original material. During the period of my absence, he made excellent fan arts of Dark Souls character's reimagined as Bloodborne hunters. I got a few ideas from them, hence the sudden change of Solaire's outfit.**


End file.
